


Travel Back, Down that Road

by VindictiveStorm



Series: N7 Month 2020 [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Post-War, Unrelated chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VindictiveStorm/pseuds/VindictiveStorm
Summary: Trying to do something for N7 Month. I don't have a whole universe built for my Shepard, so all the chapters are unrelated unless otherwise specified.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Liara T'Soni
Series: N7 Month 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005021
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Red

The two of them had decided to break up after the war, a mutual decision, they had said. Without the guns, the bullets, the stars overhead, their romance would be quick to fizzle out and turn bitter, they had said. 

Shepard still had a personal vendetta to settle with the Shadow Broker, and Liara was thrust into a position where she had to defend the Asari from what might be their rightful retribution. Neither would ever dream of asking the other to lay aside their duty, and so they decided to part ways then. It was an amicable separation. At least, that’s what they decided to say on the matter when asked by the press. 

But nobody in House T’Soni was fooled. 

Not when Liara continued to be heard laughing merrily on calls with the Spectre, no matter the time of day - and sometimes even night. Not when they could all spy the gentle smiles, the flush of her cheeks, as the young maiden personally waited at the spaceport to pick up the Spectre - who never failed to visit Thessia every other week. 

It was impossible for any member of House T’Soni to put any measure of faith into the rumors, interviews, and papers published since their announcement, when they had caught Liara trying to knit just last week. One might think the maiden was making an attempt to settle into the new normal of her now peaceful life, as winter was settling in. Yet, it made for a poor excuse when they saw that the red of the knitted scarf was a perfect match for the Spectre’s red locks. 

And none among them were surprised when the Commander had caught the similarity herself, and found it endearing enough to place a quick, discrete kiss upon Liara’s lips. No one else had caught such an act, but there was no doubt that their quiet, subtle, gentle romance was well alive.

Next year, Liara had lengthened the scarf, and when they went to pick up the Commander from the spaceport, it was long enough that the two found themselves entangled and unwilling to separate even after returning to the house.

And many decades down the line, when Saria T’Soni was born, the scarf was long enough that their baby happily slept with small hands clutched to it every night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter assumes Liara's secret identity was well protected.


	2. Science

It began with an inconsolable asari child. An angry mother. A clueless, tactless, human Spectre with a white sheet draped over herself. And said Spectre’s bondmate, who nearly tripped over herself to push the human aside, and apologize for whatever misunderstanding had taken place.

“I’m going to go ahead and guess that ‘ghosts’ don’t really exist, for the asari?” Shepard tried, with a sheepish grin, as she folded the white sheet - decorated skillfully with fake blood, and with the limbs of some other species attached onto it. There was also an eyeball - Krogan - on it earlier. But it had dropped. Right before the asari child’s feet.

Liara shook her head, “that isn’t even the problem! In what situation would you answer the door wearing something as disgusting as this?” Liara glowered first at her bondmate, then at the folded costume. Striding over, she plucked it up delicately with just two slim fingers, before depositing it into the trash. Before the young maiden could burn the costume and trash can in a furious warp fire, Shepard took ahold of her shoulders and redirected them back to the couch. Their very expensive and luxurious couch, where Liara wouldn’t dare throw any kind of biotics around. Or more importantly: at Shepard herself.

“We got back just in time for Halloween, you know. I didn’t know that asari had moved into the neighborhood,” Shepard tried to defend herself, laying a warm hand on tense blue shoulders. “Human children are exposed to a lot worse, and trust me, they’d be horribly underwhelmed and disappointed with how tame my ghost costume turned out.”

“Shepard, that was more ‘Adjutant’ than ghost,” Liara clipped, just the slightest unkindly. Then again, it was also an honest critique of her bondmate’s crude work. After all, they had only arrived on Earth for all of 4 hours, and surely, Shepard hadn’t dedicated all her time - or any significant time at all - on her costume.

“Yeah, ok, maybe,” Shepard raised both her hands, but her smile remained, “but it was still a ghost at its very core. White undefined figure, gaping holes in place of the eyes, nose, mouth,” she listed off, raising a finger for each point, “a horrible spirit roaming around and possessing all kinds of bodies to try and scare the pants off the living folks.”

At this, Liara’s shoulders shook gently. “Don’t ever let turians hear you say that. More than half of them are convinced you are a spirit yourself, and I doubt you want to be responsible for starting that conspiracy theory.”

“I’m sure if such a thing ever got out, the asari would be able to smooth things over for me,” Shepard replied, and then mused out loud, “how long would you think it would take, for everyone to stop arguing over it and believe me?”

“Not as long as you obviously think it might take,” Liara huffed, recognizing the light hearted tease. “After all, they simply do not exist. It would be easier to prove that, than to try to educate everyone on the specifics on your bastardization of turian Spiritualism."

Shepard clicked her tongue, “how dare you so callously discard my intel, Shadow Broker.”

“I only accept the best, Spectre.”

“Don’t the asari have some outstanding hypothesis on the idea of spirits? You’ve been around for so long, but surely some of the mystery is still unsolved? Up for debate? How are you to know my intel is irrelevant?”

“Because the asari are not so obsessed with the dead like the rest of you.”

The two were content to fall into a comfortable silence after that. Because Shepard knew better than to actually point out the irony of this specific asari making such a claim. But, as always, Liara preferred to have the last word. Several last words, even.

“If your ghosts were actually real, Shepard, I believe we’d be visited by many of them. Of which would include your own Clone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter assumes that they have a house on both Earth and Thessia.


	3. Cooperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 small shorts showing some cooperation themes. (1) Looks at the teamwork it takes to conquer an escape room (2) a volleyball game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stuck writing a research paper for so long, I never had the energy to do this until now. I then caught seasonal depression, and couldn't write what I originally wanted, but this will do.

“Whoever made this is a sick, sick fuck,” Shepard hissed under her breath, making sure that her body was turned away from the cameras that had been following her throughout her venture into Armax Arsenal’s newest release: escape rooms. 

It had taken quite some time to be built over the last few years, after all, it had to account for the many unique traits of each and every species in order to create fair play. On top of that, they then had to make many additional security upgrades to ensure that those with cybernetics - or those who were purely synthetic - couldn’t just cheat their way through their rooms. Every month, the marketing team released more and more previews and development notes that kept an active and attentive following. Just when people were about to drop this particular topic, after 2 long enduring years of anticipation, they came out with something no one in the galaxy missed: Commander Shepard to personally challenge the Armax Abyss - Spectre Grade Room.

It set the extranet on fire. 

It was no secret that prior to the war the Commander was an exceptional infiltrator, a strong huntress. She was the one who was able to chase Saren down and return with his head, fool the galaxy into her staged death as she went undercover to undermine Cerberus from within and strike at the heart of the Collector base with their resources in hand. Many speculated that if the Reapers hadn’t come when they had, the Commander would have escaped her house arrest the same week to try and deal the first strike against the harvesting horrors. What better way to prove that Commander Shepard could absolutely slip free of the Alliance’s clutches than to make a daring escape from the Spectre Level Escape Room provided by Armax Arsenal? 

When it was framed like that, there was no way Shepard was just going to meekly turn the opportunity down. And she would especially not admit defeat while the entire galaxy was watching her try and figure out what the hell this butcher’s basement was hiding from her.

But after an hour, and not knowing how much further she had to go, frustration was starting to come out over her pride. At some point she mused if this was some elaborate scheme hatched by some angry people to forever trap her in a horrible unending maze, and pondered what ever she should do to escape … only to be informed kindly by the staff that, Commander you are going out of bounds, that vent is not meant to be used … somebody put that down in the footnotes, we’re going to have to remove that next week.

Right. Ok. She had her fill of fun - and she was ready to get the hell out of here. That is, before someone with a bone to pick with her actually showed up to trap her in this horrible place. Tapping at the heel of her palm discreetly, a harmless pulse washed over to the drone following her. With a horrible dim hum, it lifelessly turned to the wall, much less animated than it had been all this time. For the next few minutes, it would be playing a looped video of Shepard typing onto a console while the actual Shepard hatched her own Spectre Grade plans to get the hell out of dodge.

_ Ring ring … _

“Shepard?” a drowsy voice greeted her, and Shepard swooned - inwardly, of course. “Weren’t you busy doing the escape room challenge with armax today? Have you already cleared it?” 

“Have I told you how much I love that you always assume the best of me? Do you really think I could have cleared the Spectre Grade Room in the time that you took your nap?” Shepard preened, and felt her chest swell even more when laughter could be heard on the other side. 

“In most circumstances, I would believe you to come out as the victor no matter who or what you find yourself challenging … However, I happen to know that Armax reached out to some people to make this especially … well, I hesitate to use the word ‘impossible’ as you are involved…” 

“That’s … What’s the word? Like the opposite of favoritism! Did they do this whole set up to make me look like a fraud?” Shepard scowled.

“No! They wouldn’t, it wouldn’t be a beneficial act for them to take,” Liara reassured her, and then there was a brief silence, though Shepard could hear the shuffling of datapads faintly on the other end. Soon enough, Liara’s sweet voice returned, soothing her anxiety and irritation, “how many buttons have you pressed on?” 

“All of them,” the Spectre answered easily, to Liara’s sigh and a ‘of course’ that seemed to be muttered under her breath. 

“In that case, I believe you have Tali’Zorah vas Normandy to thank for your prolonged stay in the rooms,” Liara giggled, as Shepard choked on her breath. “We were all wondering why she was so excited for this, and offered to tape this all for our enjoyment.”

“Wait, what?! Tali did what?!” Shepard balked, but the pieces were quick to fall into place. “She told me she was over it! It’s not my fault I didn’t know how to use the modules properly - it was ancient technology!” 

“Funny how it seems that you will end up calling a specialist to assist you each time only after … ‘assessing all of your options’,” Liara replied, and while Shepard felt the barb of her smugness, it was also especially adorable. Domestic. They were the kind of couple that could tease and rib each other over the omni, and reminisce about old, ugly, hard times while still laughing and smiling. Swoon … no, not yet! 

“Well, Specialist T’Soni, if you may spare your minutes with this lowly Spectre,” Shepard began, “so that she may hurry home and worship every inch of you, I’d be humbled by your enlightened guidance, and so very grateful for your time,” she tried to charm her lover, but then was quick to add: “I’m also in desperate need of the toilet, this is inhumane treatment, please save me. Tell Tali I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Shepard, this is sad.” 

“Shh! No, it is not! What’s sad is the vengeful quarian who would rather trap me in here instead of holding me at point blank with her shotgun, like a REAL woman! And don’t you think I can’t connect the dots - how exactly was Tali able to get hooked up into this whole thing with Armax, Liara?” 

“Come back home with the right brand of milk this time, and I’ll consider telling you!” 

Part: 2

As someone who didn’t have biotics until her rebirth, the training for it was difficult. On top of that, there were only a handful of people she could even trust to help her out with it - so she didn’t even really get any solid training in until she’d been locked up back on Earth. Where there were no asari to step in and actually provide the things she needed and wanted to know. That set back had been especially unhelpful since her biotics were Cerberus crafted. It was a miracle the Alliance were able to get her to qualify and finish the Vanguard program with her fake-biotics right before the whole war broke out. 

Now that she moved to Thessia though, things were a lot more simple. Most of her finesse with biotics came from playing biotiball, and various other sports, with other huntresses and commandos. But today wasn’t about her fake-biotics, today was her turn to bully and tease the other huntresses and commandos in a ‘no biotics allowed’ volleyball game. 

Throughout the afternoon, the T’Soni estate was filled with laughter. More than once, the commandos had run right into each other to try and save a falling ball, or in an attempt to block an incoming spike, tackled their teammate hard enough to send them both flying out of position - allowing the ball to go sailing into their own court. One major difference between the asari and human version of volleyball was the space of the court. For the asari who could all bioticially charge, or make biotically-charged spikes, their courts were probably as big as a soccer field. Stuffing commandos into a puny human volleyball court was just asking for some bruises and all kinds of other trouble. 

“Oh shit. Mera? Mera, you good?” Shepard crouched over the felled Commando, who was clutching her nose. Upon receiving an affirmative groan, the Spectre grinned, “fantastic save, but you’re going to feel that one for a while.” 

Beside them, Giralda frowned, “better get yourself into the infirmary before something else happens,” she then laughed, “if you go now you’ll probably get the best bed there, god knows we’re all making a visit there after this.” 

“‘After this’?’ Mera asked, “There’s no one to substitute me - shouldn’t we get in before the doctor yells at us for sauntering in right before dinner anyway?” 

“There shouldn’t be a problem if I took your place, is there?” Liara spoke up from the doors of the gym, attracting all of their attention. “It’s still a few hours before dinner is served, and I find myself wanting to stretch a little bit, that is, if you will have me-”

“Yes!” Shepard cheered, all put pushing Mera into Giralda’s arms, gently and in jest. “Off with you!” 

“Fine, alright! You better keep your pants on, Shepard,” Mera growled as she gingerly strided over to where Liara was. “If I find out we lost …”

“Not happening!” Shepard smirked, and when Liara made her way over at her side, she couldn’t resist depositing a quick kiss to flustered blue cheeks. “Hello, beautiful. Where do you want me, today? Your left side or right? I won’t complain if you want me under-”

“Shepard!” Liara pressed her palms against that horrible mouth. “Just take the left, it’s your favored position anyway.”

Soon, after some more theatrics from Shepard, the ball was in play. 

From what Shepard had seen during her stay on Thessia, every asari was a graceful setter. It also helped that they were all very flexible, and able to send the ball flying from one side of the net all the way to the other side if need be on a snap decision, and gods they made it look so easy, and so, so sexy. 

The one fatal flaw she’d discovered - and decided to hold in secret for now - was that they were all poor at disguising their dump attacks - dinks - tips, whatever. Their forms were a little too perfect, and it was easy to tell when they were just going to tip it over the net in lieu of passing it over to someone ready to spike it over. 

What she didn’t know was that Liara knew this as well. 

Back on the Normandy SR-1, when Shepard had taken them to an actual shore for shore-leave, the poor maiden had suffered being Ashely’s partner in Beach Volleyball of all things. In a setting where only two people were responsible for the points they scored and saved, the asari feared she’d be leaving the beach in tears - although Ashley had surprised them all by being competitive as hell, but also patient in a sisterly manner - she had gained much experience needed in that short time frame. Even if it was mostly through reprimands. 

_ “Commander Lover-Eyes isn’t ever going to fall for your feints,” _ Ashley had groaned, during a short break,  _ “she’s got her perverted eyes all over you, at all times, she knows when you’re just going to tip it over the net before you even decide to do it. So what you should do instead is …” _

“Over here! Left!” Shepard roared as she began to secure a short run-and-jump distance between the net and herself. Just as she took off, she noted that three commandos had immediately flown over to try and block her. A difficult wall to try and hit over, but not impossible, Shepard determined as her feet left the ground. 

Liara’s feet had left the ground just about the same time she had, and she watched, almost distractedly how perfectly her arms and hands were braced under the ball, how her body began to contort and turn …

_ “... just smash it over!”  _

_ …  _ only for her left arm to pull back, and her right arm swung fiercely at the ball. With all three commandos in the front pulled away by Shepard, Liara had basically been given a free opening to hit wherever she wanted. 

There was a stunned silence as they all landed back on their feet, with only the echoes of the impact the ball made with the floor to accompany their landing. 

“If you could jump higher, maybe I would have considered tossing it left,” Liara smiled at Shepard, who trembled with excitement - much like a varren puppy - before throwing her arms around Liara.

“I knew you’d remember! All I had to do was draw away the pesky commandos so that you could shine in your full glory, isn’t that right?” 

“The credit goes to Ashely, dear,” Liara stated, turning away with a smile when Shepard began to protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'fake-biotics' - my Shepard has a problem knowing that the biotics Cerberus grafted into her is essentially a product of the suffering of others like Jack and Kaidan. As far as she's concerned, it isn't her biotics. 
> 
> 'dump' - in volleyball, you might expect the third person to touch the ball to spike it over, but sometimes the second person touching it could just very lightly tip the ball over, which is both anti-climatic and a shock to defenders who must now immediately throw themselves onto the floor to try and catch this


	4. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have two choices. We can destroy the relay. Or we can turn it off. And hope that when they grow up from their isolationist nature, or when they are ready to venture beyond their planet again, they will be worthy, intelligent, and ready to join the society beyond their borders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know they have colonized beyond Earth. The remaining humans on Terra-Nova and elsewhere are assumed to be a small enough number after the war that they cannot sustain the population the way planet Earth could.
> 
> As in real life, we know Brexit supporters are still confused and outraged at their inability to now visit other places freely, despite their votes implying otherwise - that case will not be present in this fic. The people, the majority, silent and loud, are very aware and have deliberately chose to isolate themselves to keep away from aliens and other planets. 
> 
> There is a lot of flaws with this, but author is a supporter of ending all life in a painless flash.

“There’s no going back,” Liara warns Shepard, fingers held still above the holographic interface that connects to Charon’s Relay. 

“I never wanted to go back anyway,” Shepard replies. And Liara refuses to believe this. So, she turns away from the instruments at her hand, and to the woman herself. What they’re about to do - the people they’re going to turn away, they cannot do this if this is the best answer Shepard has for her. But rather than finding the flippant smile she had come to hate and love, the smile left on Shepard's face is a resigned one, a defeated expression.

Liara knows that Shepard is more than conflict, conquest, and victory. She is a woman who has the right to be tired, yearns for the quiet, and desires listless wandering. And there is no one alive that seems to be able to have the decency to allow her to pursue these small things - so Liara must do so, before they send her off for another war, chasing after another imbalance in the galaxy that for some reason they think one woman can correct. 

But Liara also knows why Shepard answers every time the galaxy calls. 

_ Someone else might have gotten it wrong! _

No one alive truly understands the burden of such a responsibility, Liara muses tiredly. Somehow, it is only those who are dead who are the greatest teachers who can tell us how we answer these calls with not our pride, but our sincerity, our death-peration for good and peace. And Liara has no intentions of letting Shepard join their numbers, alongside other the exemplars of this greatness. Not before the woman has even lived the life she wanted, had dreamed of. 

Shepard, and her Mother, had both laid down their lives more than once, defying higher powers, with their belief in finishing things the right way … and so Liara knows she must also finish this before a war does start, and she has to do it the right way - the way so that Shepard can also see it as the right way. 

“I can still change things,” she informs her lover quietly. “We don’t have to do it this way-”

“No, it’s better this way,” the redhead interjects, her voice stronger than Liara could ever think possible, somehow reassuring the asari when it ought to be the asari comforting the human. “It’s better than my original idea, anyway,” she adds, with horribly timed levity that humanity was known for. Would have been known for. 

“You would never,” Liara replies sternly, fixing Shepard with a gaze that brokered no arguments. She would not challenge Shepard’s capacity and willingness to do terrible things, when such actions were necessary. But the thought that the same woman could somehow agree to culling her own human brothers and sisters? For the sake of appeasing the other species, who were nervous, and unable to either educate or negotiate with the young, volatile race? No sapient being would agree to any part of this thoughtless turn of events if it had fallen into their laps. No sane being would agree to detonating relays (least of all, their second one!) to resolve an uprising of a race of malcontents.

But when she held her gaze, Liara found that she was wrong. Because that steel glint in her eyes told her that Shepard absolutely would. 

The revelation doesn’t scare her. Not when it is Shepard. 

“If doing this means that our daughters can live an entire lifetime without war … if you don’t need to live through another one … if peace is right there for the taking … then, I absolutely would.”

Not when it was so evident that it was love that would tempt her to break her own bottom line, the essence that made her great, and heroic. 

And so it fell onto Liara, who was responsible both for that love and the consequences that may come from their selfishness. 

“This is not a permanent solution, not to peace, if that’s what we want,” Liara warns her, holding the human’s pale palms in her blue hands. 

“But it is the asari solution, isn’t it?” Shepard grins, adjusting their hands so that their fingers intertwined, a lovely flush of blue and pink, “if we just leave them to their own hatred, to their own selfishness, to their own shortsightedness for a thousand years, give or take, by the time they evolve into something smarter, kinder, better, and reach this relay again, they could be something worthy, unified and united, can’t they?” After a short silence shared between them, Shepard laughs again, just a touch hysterically. “Maybe they’ll never even make it out here again, if they just take themselves out, Krogan-style!” 

“Do you not have even the slightest love for your people, Shepard?!” Liara cannot help but to finally ask. “You would be among the last of your people, whether we destroy this relay or turn it off - there will be no one out there that will understand, that will approve, that will share the roots that you-”

“I belong to more than just humanity,” Shepard interrupts, and her hands move, grabbing at Liara’s unremarkable biceps, before reaching up to her smaller shoulders. Each time those warm hands leave her skin, it burns, that’s why she’s crying, she tries to tell herself, as Shepard’s smile gentles, and defeat lifts away at last, because even stronger than her devastation is her love. Not for her own people, and their future, but for Liara. “We all do, that’s what galactic unity means, for all of us.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a mess because I hate humans and couldn't get my head on straight enough. 
> 
> Humanity is being racist and trying to start wars with everyone else right after the Reaper war. They all turn to Shepard, expecting her to quell this, but Liara knows that whatever Shepard decides to do, it would break her. And so Liara lays it down: it comes down to destroying the relay to destroy all the humans, or deactivating it, with the hopes that the humans stick to their isolationist nature, until hate, prejudice, and ugliness evolve into intelligence, acceptance, etc. and when they travel again to the relay, they will be actually something that's actually ready to join the greater galactic society beyond their own borders. 
> 
> Inspired by the privates in ME3 who guard the Indoctrination-Scanner room, "Great. Let's follow war with more war," when the other private suggested they get revenge on all the races who sat back and didn't join in the war effort.


	5. Cruelty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't write it outright, but here's an obligatory warning for some implied graphic violence.

There were a few reasons why the two of them didn’t immediately try for a baby as soon as the war came to an end. To the shock of several people. Aside from the fact that the pregnancy would probably-and-maybe-absolutely kill Liara, and even after accounting for the other various mature, responsible, and sound reasons … the simple fact of that matter as that they themselves privately agreed that neither were mature or sane enough to raise another being. Not yet.

Liara grew up surrounded by the resentment of her peers, and without affection and comfort from a steady source, she had been too weak to ever escape from the torment until she had basically fled from her home planet.

What kind of child would want a mother like that?

Perhaps, when her mother shed such weakness?

Like when she had passed by her tormentor’s bedside in the hospital at Illium. When Liara had stared at the teary, swollen face of a would-be mother who had just been told her baby was lost. When she smiled, and in an echo of the tormenter’s favorite taunt, recited to the rotten thing, “don’t worry. Things will get better,” before leaving her to their well deserved misery.

What kind of child would want a mother like that?

Shepard herself only had wisdom wrought from blood and lifeless bodies. What kind of a mother would she be if those were the only lessons she could teach to her own flesh and blood? Not even the Krogan would doom their children to a life of only knowing death, horror, and conflict.

Even if the blood she spilled had been from _things_ like the slavers from the Mindoir incident.

It didn’t matter if she had slaughtered that particular group down to the one batarian. And then had _it_ tied, blindfolded, and knelt before Talitha, after she and Garrus smuggled it into the facility.

She had gone through 4 heatsinks - the maximum amount that she could hold on her person, all of it drilled into it until there was just a wet red puddle on the floor.

It didn’t matter if Talitha had wept, smiled, thanked her, and could finally find peaceful slumber with her nightmares put to a definite rest.

What kind of child would want a mother like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether or not Liara had personally intervened and did something is left up to readers to decide.


	6. Indoctrination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you do everything you can, and sometimes the stakes are such that you can't fail. But you do. Because sometimes it just isn't enough. And it can never be enough. And you just learn how to live with it. Or you don't. But it is never an easy decision - it is only the last decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor reference to Warframe's Kavat companion. A big cat.

Shepard throws the remote in her hands into … no, not the TV. Not again. Getting up to her feet, ignoring the wary look Liara sends her way, she stomps over to the front door, and throws it outside. When she comes by in, there is a glass of water placed rather pointedly on the coffee table where her feet once were. It was not a placating offer, she recognized and began to guzzle it down. Furiously, of course. As if she could be calmed with a mere glass of H2O. 

As if Commander Shepard would melt from having lithe blue fingers twist and curl the hair at the nape of her neck, like a baby Kavat. 

Pulling Liara onto her lap, nuzzling her face into her pretty blue hands, Shepard murmurs, “how can you stand them, spreading these lies, trying to attack the people who were indoctrinated. Isn’t there anything we can do?” 

In response, Liara lifts her face and something in Shepard’s throat dries up and weighs a hundred times heavier when she sees her bondmates blues turn glassy and liquid. Memories of her mother, no doubt came to the forefront of her mind. Some hidden truths from Shiala whose mind had touched Liara’s, allowed her to experience the full extent of helplessness, and violation of indoctrination - that her mother had succumbed to.

“Her hands were beating at glass walls, she was a prisoner, her own cries muted, her anger stripped. She tried to bargain, she tried to tear herself apart in desperate frustration, to do something … and in the end, she could do no more than apologize for her weakness when I failed to free her,” stalling Shepard’s protests with a soft tearful kiss, Liara continued, “to share the truth, to say something … I would violate … and share the shame of those who were simply too weak, or those who gave up in face of an overwhelming force. And unfortunately, the same people who choose to attack those who are guilty for remaining, when so many have been lost, will suffer more for their perceived inability to have overcome the Reapers.” 

“Do you know what they are saying?” Shepard said, “That some of the indoctrinated were those who just willingly chose to join the Reapers side. As if some of them hadn’t been harvested, kidnapped … corpses still warm, mauled and maimed enough to be repurposed. Or just civilians who were scared shitless.” 

“And like Shanxi, things will get better in time. The harsh, unreasonable expectations we place on ‘the guilty’ will change. What I plan to do … what Shiala has asked of us, is to assist with the programs overseeing the orphans.” 

“What answer do we give them?” Shepard wondered. 

“The one that lets them know they were loved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the fight is just taken out of you. Rest well.


	7. Day 8: Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara's 90th and 100th birthdays were missed - but Benezia always intended for Liara to go on out into the galaxy fearlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 was a free space and I honestly spent so much more time sweating over thinking and choosing before remembering I could just skip it.
> 
> I have no idea how guns actually work.

Liara had been digging in the attic of her mother’s estate when she came upon an odd case. It was sturdy, heavy even, she discovered when she had tried to push it aside. A closer inspection revealed that the case had a lock, although it was clearly compromised. It was a mystery that woke a curious beast inside Liara. Most things in the attic were Benezia’s - who had accumulated treasure and trash alike across the entire galaxy in the span of several centuries, it was little wonder that the matriarch had to retire some things to make room for whatever new trend or treasure that came her way. But to leave something completely unlocked? Or was this the work of a thief? A sign that her father had tried to see her in her infancy, even?

Plucking it from the dusty maws of the attic, Liara brought the case to her usual study. As spring settled in, the tall windows of the room were open more often than not, and rain or shine, the weather always brought something to be enjoyed when she tucked herself into the otherwise dull and silent office. Today, it was the glorious rays of sunshine that would bear witness to her unraveling of this mystery.

After delicately pulling aside the broken lock, Liara unveiled her prize.

It was a shotgun. 

Some part of her desperately wished to check that it was devoid of thermal clips, but it would mean that she would disturb this … this memory, tucked away by Benezia, but so clearly brought out at least once before Liara had come across it herself. Questions sprung forth, many of them, in fact, and they came so quickly that Liara could feel a headache settling in when there was a knock at the door. 

“Yes?” She called out, and startled when it was Shiala that crossed the threshold. “No one told me that you were coming home today,” she greeted the commando warmly, making her way around the circular table to give a proper welcome to the older asari. However, before her arms could wrap around Shiala in a hug, they were held at the elbow. “Shiala?” 

“Were you digging around your mothers things, Liara?” Shiala asked, and Liara stopped to think what story she should tell the commando. Her voice was not soft, nor weepy, and so it was safe to assume that the shotgun was not a sad memory to recall, and to ask about. 

“Yes,” Liara decided, “with so much destroyed, I wanted to find some comfort in that her older keepsakes remained safe, or at least in some form of recoverable state,” she explained, turning to the opened case. “I saw that the lock on this was broken and …” 

“Couldn’t help but to open it up?” Shiala teased her. Squeezing the maiden’s arms in lieu of a hug, Shiala stepped around Liara, and carefully brought the shotgun out to inspect it for herself. With a deep breath, Shiala turned heavy eyes onto Liara, and offered the shotgun to the maiden. “This was supposed to be yours when you were 90 years old, Little Wing,” Shiala informed her in a solemn voice. 

“I … I don’t understand,” Liara replied, peering between them, at the ugly but undeniably fearsome looking weapon, “why would I need - why would Mother want me to have this?” She breathed, and for a moment her head swam into memories long forgotten - no, suppressed, vehemently. 

“It used to be hers,” Shiala explained with a fond smile, “your Mother was a strong biotic, but if she couldn’t warp something into submission, then she figured that, surely, something like this could,” her shoulders shake, but the commando does not laugh, “she thought that it would be more helpful to you than her - nothing in the galaxy usually shrugs off a 900 year old matriarch’s biotics the way they do a 90 year old baby’s anyway.” 

“Indeed. And I … I was just about to head off onto my first solo dig …”

“Yes, she knew,” Shiala nodded, “and … I won’t say she approved, but if she intended for you to take this …”

“...Yet her approval was all that mattered to me, back then,” Liara concluded bitterly, and a surge of self loathing wrapped around the young asari’s heart - what a brat she had been, and worse yet, a coward. “I knew she would … say something, that the commandos would have to stand at the door, pretend they didn’t hear me get reprimanded, and my accomplishments stripped down to a mere …” she brings a hand up to her forehead, “so I just left, taking first flight out, skipped the trip back home altogether and left her with a voice message.”

Tears begin to gather in Liara’s eyes - Goddess, what a brat she had been, and only now does she even think to look back, and recall more memories, more buried regrets, whenever she had shrugged her mother off, turned her head, and defensively - so overly defensively - snapped and barked like mad at her poor Mother. 

When Shiala lifts her head, she sees a smile on the matron's face. It is not a pitying smile, or a sad smile but an understanding one. How Liara has come to learn the distinction is completely lost on the maiden herself. 

“As we all did,” the commando assures her, “we all ran away at least once in our maidenhood, whether it was from an angry father after we crashed the skycar, or from our mothers when we came home from school with less than stellar grades.”

Dabbing her eyes with the back of her hand, Liara nods, grateful for the comfort of her guardian - even if Shepard was usually her guardian these days, the role Shiala fills is vastly different from her lover’s. 

“Since you skipped home on your 90th, it just gave your Mother more time to make much grander plans,” Shiala continued, “the other commandos had no idea that you were going to skip right on to digging - they were giggling the whole week, Liara-”

“I imagine they wanted to tease me,” Liara frowned. 

“Yes. Because you were obviously going to knock yourself on your ass if you tried to use this,” Shiala lifted the shotgun up a slight bit, making her point. “Given your horrible diet, and general poor health as a student, this thing might as well be a rocket launcher for you at the time.” 

“I assume Mother overheard and immediately began to make plans to circumvent this?” 

“As all matriarchs are known to do, yes,” and Shiala is moving around Liara again, settling the shotgun back in its … well, coffin, as it were. “She thought herself foolish, overly sentimental, in wanting to pass an old relic down to you - it wasn’t something appropriate to give you for your 100th birthday. ‘Benezia T'Soni’s baby deserved something better than a ratty old shotgun from ‘68 for her first century’ - was the general idea.” 

“But then she never made it back because of …”

“Mhm, the batarians.” 

Silence eclipses, and the two stew sorrowfully in the memories of the years that come after, when Benezia was ripped from them. 

\---

“This is it?” Liara asked, trailing a finger along the glossy sides of the box. “I thought it’d be more … dusty.” 

“I had Aethyta clean it up,” Shiala explained, crossing her arms. “Figure she deserved to be part of this, in some way.” 

Before Liara gets to lift the lid, pink hands press on her own, and she shoots Shepard a questioning look. 

“Any guesses, Dr. T’Soni?” the human grins, and Liara’s heart melts at how Shepard is trying her best to make the most out the otherwise somewhat grim and sad occasion. She had explained what she had found, what Shiala had shared with her - and Shepard had since then decided to make this happen to ‘recreate your 100th birthday, but like spiritually’.

“As I have a habit of making devastatingly correct assumptions, I will pass,” Liara returns the smile, laughing when Shepard scowls - the human always knows when she’s been beaten in wit. 

The lid opens in a satisfying whisper, and peering inside, Liara plucks out the pistol - heavy pistol - with a careful grip. Immediately, she sees all the similarities it shares with her mother’s shotgun, the bulky, ugly chassis, rigid smug barrel … it was as if her mother had shrunk her own shotgun, so that it would comfortably sit in Liara’s hands. And Goddess, when she turns it onto the side, she sees ‘wings’ on the side of it, carefully scrawled, almost invisible to the eye. 

Once her awe with its appearance dulls, she begins to assess its actual worth, its build, and its utility. She does not find the detachments found in all modern guns for thermal clips - nor does she find the one that they used to have for heat sinks. This was untested then, experimental, something that never got released onto the markets - likely something that was caught in between that awkward transition from heat sinks and thermal clips, and never managed to compete with the latter. Does that mean that her Mother had this made? Or perhaps she invested into some other company, all for her?

“Oh gawd…” Shepard breathes heavily beside her, drawing her attention. “That’s so hot,” she grits her teeth audibly, “Alliance doesn’t pick up a lot of hand cannons - and here you are, with the prettiest one.” 

“A hand cannon?” Liara turned to Shiala with a helpless expression. “I was one hundred, and going on academic trips! She did not have to … go to such lengths ...”

“For you, Little Wing, she would have gone to any lengths,” Shiala reassured her with a pat on the arm, “she would have let you go to whatever distance you wanted to as well - and this was her way of giving you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific references to Destiny 2's Hawkmoon hand cannon for visuals.   
> I can personally and unfortunately stand as witness to poor health and crap diet as a student - Freshman Viral Infection and Negative 13 Pounds.


	8. 9: Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interval of rest/relief - a perfect time to recover from solitude, although not everyone can heal those voids of isolation with love, Liara is privileged enough that she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sponsored by 6666 words and 420 views from the last chapter. Keep up the gamer numbers please.

A headache was about to settle in, she could feel it. Half an hour ago she had asked Glyph to apply a layer of artificial soundproofing around the suite when she had been stuck on a sentence for longer than she’d like to admit. Her eyes were sore, likely not helped by the fact that her only source of light was rather blinding, and her lips were swollen from the harsh nips and bites it had endured for several hours. Years ago, she could vividly recall tolerating these same hardships, often over several nights, as she had chased after her doctorate. However, years spent in secret as the Shadow Broker had spoiled her completely. 

After the war, it was naturally hard to keep the galaxy united without the presence of a common enemy. But Shepard didn’t almost kind of die just to watch everything fall apart and back into the old ways. It took a few years, but now it seemed the galaxy was possibly a better place with a more inclusive Council, a stronger uniformed law enforcement system, with even kinder rehabilitation programs. And those were just the ones Shepard was personally involved in, but many other programs, reliefs, and plans had been put into place in an effort to rebuild and better their battered society.

However, these changes were not embraced by all of the people. 

Liara was keeping an eye on all the discontent that brewed from those who still suffered, despite the efforts to improve everyone’s wellbeing. While these developments were made with the best of intentions, some things, some people, remained overlooked. Worse, there were already those who moved to try and exploit these flaws and oversights of the system, unseen by those who were kept busy trying to promote peace and unity. There was a knowing deep in her bones that knew that someone needed to address the horrible actors, spurred on by desperation, that clung on, lest they fester and eventually drown out all the good they were trying to achieve.

She had done quite well on her own in moving against those who remained bitter and outspoken about the works of the united galaxy. Unlike her usual operations, she did not need to use money, guns, threats, and hostages. This was not a task for the Shadow Broker to handle, but for Liara T’Soni, who was to try and lead those who were touched by loss, sorrow, and outrage onto gentler paths, informed ones, and point them towards educated alternatives. She was her mother’s daughter, through and through. 

But she didn’t quite have the same sway her mother had. Matriarch Benezia was not one who shied away from contest, contention, or confrontation. No matter who it was she addressed, she had the power to make them heed and consider, and more often than not: obey. Though Liara often grumbled about the disadvantages of being an upstart Maiden in her society, she knew her struggles ran deeper than simply her youth and lack of worldly experience. First among them was her impatience, and then her deep desire to explain herself in full. In short, she was a better lecturer than a public speaker. She was too defensive, eager to correct those around her, and refused to conform to paraphrases that just left too much unsaid for her tastes. She was no leader, but a useful specialist. 

When she took on the mantle of the Shadow Broker, things became easier. She wasn’t her mother, and she didn’t need to spend several centuries to learn how to be as wise and charming as Benezia had been when the methods placed in her hands had been to intimidate, blackmail, and permanently silence any opposing voices and actors. It was easier, and better yet, it hid her weaknesses well. She was never expected to explain herself - goddess persevere those who had to, Shepard would often tease her - and when she made interventions, she was able to immediately witness the results of things, rather than spending several centuries lying in wait for things to unravel itself neatly and seamlessly.

For all her newfound power though, it only worked well because the typical gangster, the regular civilian, and the guilty knew well the consequences. It was fear that gave the Shadow Broker any measure of power. And so, when she found herself stacked against those who did not fear, or believed themselves stronger, Liara … was not powerless, but it certainly was a fresh reminder that she was truly just a simple maiden.

A simple maiden tasked with delivering quite the important speech to all of her people, where her every word, tone, inflection, would be critically scrutinized - by her mother’s old enemies, the matriarchs whose positions were threatened by her rise in power among their people, and the people who doubted the optimistic forecasts for their future. Liara T’Soni could not make the people love and admire her, the way her mother did so effortlessly. Liara T’Soni could not make demands and bargain with her people the way the Shadow Broker did with their clients. So, what was Liara T’Soni going to do? 

…

Shrugging on an ugly green sweater, Liara emerged from her self-imposed prison. The tiles at her feet were lit, and made for easy pathing into the kitchen where - bless her heart - Shepard had apparently already prepared a thermos full of tea for her. 

It was then that a strong pinch of guilt punctured her heart. Goddess knows just how long it had been since she had even seen her lover while she had tucked herself away to tease out mere words over overly long periods of time. Her thoughts continued to spiral into a deep despair as she sipped her tea, she found herself yearning for the warmth of her lover, her lips, her arms - even a mere smile! 

“No! Vega, you fool!” A frustrated growl echoed through the kitchen, penetrating her thoughts. Like a moth to a flame, Liara shuffled tiredly, curiously, and just slightly apprehensively, over to where she could just see a tied up mop of red hair at the couch, waving an arm and a controller at the large screen. “Just because we can throw it onto the floor doesn’t mean we should!” Shepard protested vehemently. 

Somehow, Liara found herself just behind Shepard, as if hypnotized and drawn, just by her voice! Her blue hand slipped easily, freely, into her messy red hair, petting her, and Shepard turned, dislodging her hand immediately - as per usual. Even the simplest of routines they shared filled Liara with warmth that she had been missing, unknowingly, for the last few days. What really brought tears to her eyes was when those squinty eyes widened, and softened into something affectionate. 

“Hey, babe! Long time no see,” Shepard teased her with a silly roguish grin, and immediately worked to reacquaint their hands together in a comforting hold. “Ooh, what have you been doing,” Shepard clicked her tongue, and when she began to pull, Liara walked herself around the couch, until she settled herself right against Shepard, as close as they could possibly be without fusing together. “Your hands are ice cold, and you’re definitely not putting those hands anywhere fun until you warm them up,” the human warned, before depositing a controller into her hands. 

While Shepard went on to growl at Vega again, the final layers of tension melted from Liara as she settled even more deeply into Shepard. In response, she felt a strong arm embrace her, and Goddess take her now, there was nothing that could compare to the absolute adoration that immediately swelled in her heart, for this woman. 

When she began to cry - when her tears had fallen - she could not tell if it was because of her awe, for she loved this woman more than the entire universe, or if it was because Shepard was also laughing when she made the decision to throw the game’s fire extinguisher into the trash can at a critical moment.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game is Overcooked 2.  
> This chapter is sponsored by the tears when I had to come to terms with dying alone, and never getting even a hug.  
> I drew that, thank you for continuing to read this - I'm not sure if all the views are people just reading chapter 1 and bouncing, but if you're here, hi and thank you kindly.


End file.
